Let The Games Begin
by write04ever
Summary: The rebellion is over, the Capitol has reestablished their rule over the districts, and life is back to normal. Marxus has just recently returned home after being forced to fight against the rebels for the Capitol. Life is good, but an announcement from the Capitol one night on television will change his life forever. This is the story of the first Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

I lay down in the meadow, hand underneath my head, staring up at the sky. The sun is high in the sky, forcing me to squint. I don't know exactly what I'm looking at. There is nothing but blue sky above me. No clouds in sight. I take a deep breath and let it out. This is the first day in months that I haven't had a gun in my hands. It feels nice to be able to relax.

It's a cool summer's day, near the end of July. The weather here in District 7 is usually cool. We're lucky if we can get perfect weather even in the middle of summer. So these are the kind of days that I treasure. It may seem lame to the other guys, but I like to come out here in the field behind my house and take in nature. I usually have some company, but there is none today. It's mostly girls that come out here (which I'm perfectly fine with).

This girl Iris that I used to date comes around on Tuesdays. Today isn't Tuesday; it's Friday. I miss Iris terribly. We stopped dating nearly three months ago, but not a day goes by that I don't wish we were still together. I hate going to school and seeing her talk to all of the other guys. There should only be one guy she talks to and that's me.

"Marxus, come watch me!" My little brother calls out. I prop myself up onto my elbows and watch as Griffin tumbles forward, feet over his head. I laugh to myself and applaud him.

"Great job." He grins at me and stands tall as if he had just won an award. Just as I'm about to encourage him to do another, a buzzer sounds through the district. I'm immediately at attention and race to my little brother. He must have noticed the anxiety in my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Let's head back home." I say stiffly, gripping his hand strong. I try to smile down at him, but it just won't come. I know the smile looks forced. And Griffin is smart enough to know when something is wrong. He may be only six years old, but he knows more about the threat of the Capitol than many of the other kids in the district. It must be because both his older brother and his father were forced to go to war for the Capitol.

I haven't been one to hide anything from Griffin. He knows everything from the Hunger Games to what goes on in the other districts. So when the alarm rang out, he was already aware that something was the matter.

What could it be? I run through all the possible situations on the way home. It could be another proclamation of war or a meeting to get the army beck together. There could be a freak storm coming our way and the Capitol wants to warn us. Or maybe it was another broadcasted execution. I don't know if I can deal with watching another one of my friends be killed on Capitol television.

Over the past month there have been nearly twenty executions broadcasted on television for everyone to see. Ever since the war was over and the rebels were crushed, the Capitol found and executed everyone they deemed a traitor. Most of them were men and boys that I had fought with at one point. It's sad to watch.

Every time the Capitol symbol comes on our television, my stomach gets in a knot and I begin to sweat. Every time. I can't help it. It's like the war all over again. It's like my first day with the rest of the army, a peacekeeper stuffing a gun into my hands and ordering me to shoot anyone who wasn't wearing a bright white outfit. I'm only fifteen years old. I shouldn't have to deal with wars or the guilt that comes along with killing people.

War is not a place for boys who just want to come home to their mothers.

We are close to our house when I hear the blare of other family's televisions. So Griffin and I take off at a run in order to make it to our house in time for the announcement. You see, there are televisions here in District 7, but no one really uses them unless the Capitol is broadcasting something in all of Panem. Televisions were on all day and night during the war. Updates would flash across the screen at obscure times in order to keep everyone watching. At least that was my mother's theory. She told me that she got barely any sleep when I was away. Her anxieties got worse and she started falling apart. Thank God for Griffin who kept her and the house in line. I love that little guy.

We burst through the front door just as the Capitol symbol disappears. I plop down on the couch next to my mother and Griffin wiggles his way between me and the arm rest. Our couch isn't very big. When my father was still alive, Griffin and I weren't allowed to sit on the couch. Only my mother and father could fit and because they are our superiors, we had to give them the couch.

But now we can all fit. Until Griffin grows bigger that is. He's already big for a kid his age. I'm scared to think how much he will grow by the next year.

"Attention citizens of Panem." President Septimus says, appearing on the screen. He looks the same as he always has, short black hair, rough, unshaven face, beaded necklace wrapped tight around his throat. I wish that it would choke him.

"As you know, the Dark Days are over; the war is won. There is no more danger to be found, no more lives to be lost. We are victorious."

Oh, we know. If the war was still going on, I wouldn't be sitting here on the couch with my family. I would be sleeping in mud in some trench out in District 13. That's where I would be. And where would President Septimus be? Probably in his safe mansion sipping on some tea and reading a book, far from the war. So what does he care about the danger being gone?

"I wish to give a sincere thank you to all of those who fought alongside the Capitol." Septimus continues. "Especially those from District's 1 and 2 who donated supplies and their time to help us become victorious. As for the other districts, you were disloyal to the Capitol and that must come at a price. There will be a punishment for all of the districts to remind you that the Capitol is in charge and that we have your lives in our hands."

My mother squeezes my hand. Her grip is firm and hurts, but I refuse to peel her hand away. I turn to look at her. She's tired. I can see the bags underneath her eyes, nearly three layers of them. Her short black hair is in a tangled mess. There are twigs and tiny pieces of fuzz sticking out of it. If there weren't so many, then I would start picking them out. But there is too much. She'll have to take a shower. I'll even give her the rest of the warm water, something that is a luxury here.

The dress she is wearing looks like it hasn't been washed in years. It's a soft green color with long sleeves and a white apron down the front. Food stains have turned the apron a gray color. The brown shoes on her feet look like they gave her blisters even before she put them on. They are way too small for her feet.

I feel sad at what my mother has become. This is my first day home from war. Sure it was over nearly two months ago, but I wasn't sent back here until this morning. For the past month and a half I have been living with a family in District Six. There was a really nice small family I roomed with. They had a girl around my age. I can't remember her name, but she was who I spent all of my time with. I miss her. Too bad I'll never see her again.

My attention is pulled back to the screen when Septimus explains about the Treaty of Treason. I'm surprised that this is actually happening. I heard rumors spreading through the armies about a Treaty of Treason being drafted, but no one ever thought that it would truly happen.

My heart is racing now. I can feel sweat dripping down my forehead. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Whatever President Septimus is about to say, it won't be good. It can't be; not after the war. Everything will be worse than it was before. Life can't get any better from now on. It just can't.

"I will now read to you the Treaty of Treason, which was drafted by the leaders of the Capitol army." Septimus clears his throat and picks up a white sheet of paper. Squinting at the words, he begins to read.

"In penance for their uprising,"

Ah yes, the uprising. The one I fought in. I fought for the Capitol. I wasn't on the rebel's side. I should have been. Why wasn't I? That's right; the Capitol army marched through the district and demanded that I join. It was all boys ages fifteen and older were told to report to the town square to be evaluated and chosen to join the army. I was one of the unlucky seven that were chosen.

"Each district shall offer up one male and one female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public 'reaping'."

A reaping? I dare not look anywhere else but at the television screen. I can't miss anything else that Septimus says or does. I want to know what he is talking about. No, I need to know.

It can only get worse from here, right? Why would each district offer up a girl and boy? And offer them up for what? This is making me sick. My stomach is in a knot, my head hurts, my mother is still squeezing my hand, nearly cutting off my circulation. And I can feel her grip tightening too.

"These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol."

I knew it; the Capitol is directly involved. Of course they are. What was it that Septimus had said at the beginning? Something about a punishment for all of the districts because we went against the Capitol.

But this is low, even for Septimus. Giving up kids? Not even ones close to adulthood. Twelve year olds. He's going to kidnap twelve year olds. That's basically what this is now, a kidnapping. And then they will…

Oh no. No. This can't be happening. This is a nightmare. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force myself to wake up. I know it's a dream, I just know it. No matter how hard I try to make it one though, I have to realize that this is not a dream. This is real life. President Septimus is really on this television screen telling all of Panem about the Hunger Games.

It's something that I heard from the older men in the army. It was after our last battle that the rumors started. Someone overheard a peacekeeper talking about it and the new spread like rapid fire.

There is going to be a Hunger Games because the districts were unfaithful.

We all thought it was just a rumor. I mean, it couldn't have been true. It was beyond cruel. Sending twenty four kids into an arena to kill each other? Not even the Capitol would do something that harsh. It just wasn't realistic. Septimus would never do that to his people.

But he did. And he's announcing it now, telling all of Panem that they need to fear for their kid's lives; their lives if they're in the age range. Right now there are families all around Panem crying, screaming, cursing the Capitol for what they do to us. There will be more uprisings, I'm sure of it. No one will want to agree to this. It's utter madness.

They Capitol could've done anything else. They could've taken even more food from us. We're already starving; what's there to lose if all we can eat everyday is a loaf of bread? I had corn for breakfast and some cheese for lunch. That's just about what a loaf of bread would be.

I find myself wishing that the Capitol would starve us. Once the idea is in my head, I run with it. Why not? Just starve the districts, wait for a bunch of us to die, and then start feeding everyone who is still alive. That's basically what the Hunger Games is about, offering up twenty-three people to die for the Capitol. No, not for them, because of them. Because of the Capitol, there will be twenty-three children dead, twenty-three families grieving the loss of their children.

It's not right.

I feel my mother's grip loosen and she pulls her hand back. A cry escapes her lips before she forces her hands over her mouth. Griffin is tugging at my sleeve, begging me to explain what's going on.

But I can't tell him. How am I supposed to explain it to him? There is nothing to say. He is only six years old. There is no way to tell a six year old that the people in charge of their country and their life are going to offer up twenty-three children to die every year. It's sick. It's inhumane. It's crazy.

I can't tear my eyes away from the television screen. Not even when Septimus leaves and is replaced by the Capitol symbol. I don't get up to join the uproar in the small area outside of our house. There are people pounding on our door, but no one gets up to answer the door. We're all frozen in our spots, even Griffin.

The words keep echoing in my mind, reminding me over and over again about how cruel the Capitol is. And I will never forget these words as long as I live.

"And then they will be transferred to a public arena where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore, this pageant shall be known as the Hunger Games."


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone is quiet this morning. I don't blame them. I don't feel like talking either. I barely feel like eating. But my mother worked hard to make me and Griffin a nice breakfast so the least I can do is eat it.

Today is the day. The reaping starts in less than an hour so we head towards the town square. I'm not as nervous as I should be. It would make sense that I should be nervous. This is the first year that this is happening. It's the first year of the Games and I could be selected to go into an arena to fight to the death with twenty-three other kids, some older, some younger. One of them could be me.

I shake my head and focus on my breakfast. There is no way that I am going to get chosen. Come to think of it, President Septimus never explained how the kids were chosen. Was it random selection or did the mayor choose who to send? Maybe it was up to the kids. No, that wouldn't work. Everyone would just argue and cry or something. Who would voluntarily enter the arena? No one I know.

"Are you scared, Marxus?"Griffin asks. I looked down to see his tiny eyes looking up at me with so much worry. I smile and pick him up, holding him directly in front of me so we're face to face.

"No, I'm not." I say. Then I whisper in his ear, "But between you and me, I would rather me be chosen than someone else."Griffin looks at me weird. I knew he wouldn't understand any of this. I put a finger up to my lips and shake my head. He looks over at Mother, her back to us, and nods. At least he understands that I can't tell Mother that I might actually want to participate in the Hunger Games.

I have fighting experience. I fought in the war. How many other kids in Panem could say that? It's not something I'm proud of, seeing as I chose the wrong team, but it would give me an advantage over the other tributes (or whatever Septimus called them).

I can't believe that it was just a year ago that the Hunger Games was announced. It seems like just yesterday that I was sitting on the couch in my living room, gaping at the television.

All year long I've been wondering what this day would be like. I couldn't help but imagine myself being taken by the Capitol and dying by their hands. President Septimus didn't explain much about the Games, but one thing was clear: only one kid will come out alive. And the prize they get is unbelievable.

We have no food and barely any money. Our house is basically falling apart and we barely have enough room to live in it. The winner of the Hunger Games will get a large amount of money, enough food to feed their district for a year, and they get a mansion to live in back in their home district. It's something they call the Victor's Village. There are going to be five mansions built in each district for the victors. Septimus says that more will be built if need be. Somehow I don't think many houses will be occupied in my district.

We're not very aggressive people here in District 7. Sure we can use axes like other people use silverware, but that means nothing. Our district is in charge of lumber; cutting down trees. That is hardly an advantage when you're stuck in a fight to the death.

After a few more minutes, I put down Griffin, hug my mother, and then head to the rows roped off for the kids. There are barely any kids here. I am the only one in the row. There are a few boys ahead of me and only one behind me. The rows go in order from oldest to youngest, the oldest boys are closest to the temporary stage they had put in. I'm only three rows back. It's kind of intimidating being this close. I would rather be a small twelve year old standing in the back at this point.

I stare straight ahead as a man with a camera walks by me. My heart pounds. I don't want any of this to be televised. I can't believe they even think that making this a television show is a good idea. Why would anyone want to watch twenty-four kids fight to the death? That's like sitting in the middle of a battlefield to watch a war. It's stupid.

Another boy finally slides into my row. I'm all the way at the end, the farthest away from the aisle, but the boy stays far away from me on the other side. I'm thankful for that. This is no place to be forced into socializing.

I look around at the town square that the Capitol has transformed. The small temporary stage is set up just outside the doors of theJusticeBuilding, an old building made of worn down bricks that houses our mayor's office and any other offices for important people like that. Anger boils up inside of me as I notice the Capitol flag they have draped down the front of the building. It wouldn't have bothered me so much if it wasn't covering up the District 7 crest that sits just above the doors into the building. Our crest means everything to us. It's who we are. And the Capitol has taken that away from us. At least for now.

The town square is usually open and empty, a lone fountain standing in the middle of it. But today, the cobblestone is being occupied by hundreds of kid's feet. And the fountain seems to have been moved. It's a shame too. That's my favorite part about being in the center of the whole district.

I can see my house from here. It's in the distance and I have to squint to find it, but there it is nonetheless. I wonder if I will ever see it again. What will happen if I am chosen to participate? How far will I make it before I die? I mean, I've fought in war before, but this is different. This is hand to hand combat. I will have no gun to hide behind, no other soldiers to use as a shield. It will be just me and twenty-three other kids, each one knowing damn well that only one will make it out of the arena. And there is very little chance that it will be me.

No. Stop it. I need to stop thinking this way. I can't psych myself out for this. Of course my name isn't going to be picked. I already gave my service to the Capitol by fighting in their army against my will. Why would they make me fight for them again? It would be ridiculous.

This thought calms me down. I take a shaky breath and stare down at my feet. I just have to relax and think about what Griffinand I are going to do when we get back home. Maybe we'll go back to the meadow and play tag. Maybe Iris will be there. It's a Wednesday, but she wasn't there yesterday so she might come today. The relief of not getting picked to participate in this nightmare would be enough for her to want to come see me, right?

Speaking of Iris, I look up just in time to see her walk in and find a spot in the girls' line opposite mine. She's wearing a cute green dress that makes her curly, black stand out more. I try to get her attention, but to no avail. What more can I do but look her way and hope that she turns? I refuse to call out to her. I don't want to look pathetic in front of the entire district.

"Welcome everyone." The mayor's voice booms over the sound system. I direct my attention to the stage, my heart racing. This is it. The reaping, or whatever it's called, is about to start. "It is a great honor to be a part of the first ever Hunger Games."

Is it? I find myself wondering. I don't feel very honored to be in this position right now. In fact, I don't feel honored doing anything for the Capitol. I especially didn't feel honored being forced to fight in their army. And I refuse to believe that anyone else here in the town square feels honored. It's just something Mayor Marshall has to say.

"Now I will introduce to you Eevie, a Capitol citizen, who will be escorting our lucky tributes to the Capitol for the Games." He motions to a lady behind him who immediately stands and grins wide. As she walks toward the microphone, I cringe at her outfit. It is a pale blue colored dress with dozens of tiny yellow flowers on it. And the flowers aren't just printed on the dress, they're popping out from it. Even worse off is her hair. It's yellow. And it's in a high, curly updo. I wonder how it stays so perfectly on her head?

If this is how people dress in the Capitol, I definitely don't want to go there. Ever.

"Hello everyone!" Eevie squeals. Her voice is high pitched and full of energy and excitement. I can't believe this lady. "Thanks to the Capitol, all of you have a wonderful understanding of how the Games work. So we're going to jump right to it and select our two lucky tributes."

The mayor rolls over two tables, one to the right of Eevie and one to her left. Each table has what looks to be a giant fishbowl on it. There are tiny, white pieces of paper occupying the fishbowls. It all makes sense now. Each tribute will be chosen from a slew of other sheets of paper. So the odds of getting chosen are a lot less. I let out a sigh of relief. There is no way that my name will be chosen out of all of those slips of paper. That would be ludicrous. It's not possible.

"Now is the time that I will chose the male and female tribute. If your name is called, please step forward and proceed up the steps onto the stage." Eevie walks to the bowl to her left, sticks her hand in and grabs a sheet. She does the same to the bowl on her right and then brings the sheets back with her. Standing in front of the microphone, she opens the sheets.

I suddenly feel light headed. I don't like this. There is too much anticipation, too much secrecy. And why is she waiting so long to read out the names? I would rather hear now who is being sent to their death than wait another minute to know.

"I would like to note," Eevie says. "That if there is a bold soul out there who wishes to volunteer to take the place of the tribute reaped, then they must raise their hand in the air and say 'I volunteer as tribute'. Remember, the winner of these Games receives fame and a large sum of money along with food for their district. Those are some quite appealing prizes, aren't they?" She laughs and flashes us another one of her perfect smiles. I can't stand her. What gives her the right to be so cheerful like this? Doesn't she understand what is going on here?

"Congratulations, Volumnia Spottiswoode and Flux Yule!"

I let out a sigh of relief that my name was not called. I guess fighting against the rebels in the war is enough for the Capitol. They don't need anything else from me. They have their tributes; they have their lives.

I watch the two kids walk up to the stage. The girl is tall and has a boy haircut. Her muscles are showing through the long sleeve dress she's wearing. She has a great chance of winning. I just hope she's as tough on the inside as she is on the outside.

The boy however, is not someone I would trust to win the Games. I know Flux. Not by name, but after seeing him, I realize I know him. He's a short, fourteen year old boy who has a problem with his brain. No one knows exactly what it is, but it's as if he hasn't aged past the age of five. We all put up with him in the district. He's not a mean kid, he's actually very lovable. But no one wants to be friends with him unfortunately.

"No! Flux!" I hear a girl cry out from my right. I look over to see her holding her head, tears streaming down her face. Her friends are clutching her tight as if she might run up and pull Flux down from the stage. They whisper to her, no doubt trying to calm her down, but she's having nothing of it.

"That's my brother!" she cries out again. There is a sudden empty feel in my stomach. Is it pity? Do I feel bad for this girl? I guess that would be a natural reaction to this situation. No doubt that is what I'm feeling. But what am I willing to do about it? There is nothing I can do. Flux was chosen out of that big fishbowl and now he's going to be the first death in the Games. I'm sure of it. He can't survive long. He doesn't have any survival instincts.

Why would we want to send someone like Flux into the arena to represent our district? The other tributes will make him a laughing stock. Maybe they would let him life a little longer just to tease him. And that would only embarrass District 7 even more. First we send in a kid like Flux and then he does absolutely nothing in the arena.

No. We need someone stronger, faster, smarter. Volumnia is good and all that, but she's not up for survival anything. She can crush anyone's head with one hand, but the Games aren't all about killing the other tributes. There are survival skills that you need. The tributes need to know how to find food and water and shelter. Neither of our tributes know about that.

We need someone who knows all of that. If we're going to win and get this large supply of food, there needs to be someone smart and coordinated going into the arena.

It happens before I know what I'm doing. My entire body goes numb, my mind goes blank. I can only focus on that stage in front of theJusticeBuilding. There is a small boy there that doesn't deserve to die so harshly and a girl who couldn't survive a day without food or water. There are two incapable tributes. Neither one will win.

But now there will be a tribute heading into the arena who knows what they're doing. They are a fighter, a survivor. They know about spending weeks in uncharted territory with people wishing for your death every day. They've fought a war before. And that's all the Games are, a miniature war.

I watch my hand rise in the air as if it's someone else's. Yet I know it's mine and I'm conscious of my decision. I still can't believe it though, when the words come out of my mouth. And once I said them, they couldn't be taken back.

"I volunteer as tribute."

* * *

**Hello! **

**Hopefully you liked this chapter! It's a little longer than the last one, but I like writing longer chapters. Plus once I start writing I can't stop.**

**I'm not sure if volunteers started this early in the Games. But then again no one knows anything much about the Games except for what Katniss knows. So there's gonna be a lot different in this than in the book. There might be some of the same events; they'll just be a little different, less developed**

**And no, this isn't just going to be a boring fanfic that follows the original book step by step. There will be surprises along the way. Just letting everyone know. Hopefully I can get some people to start following this. I'll be posting once every few days no matter if people are reading it or not. M'kay, that's all. Until next time! :)**


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